54. Astraea #2
“You couldn't know your mother and not love her.” He closes his eyes, head tipping back and resting on the stone wall behind him, similar to Rowan.
“Unfortunately, love is also what killed her.” There it is again; guilt is carved into the lines of his face.
“There’s a lot you don't know, Astraea. Things you deserve to know and things I wish I didn't have to tell you, but through it all, I hope you can see how much I truly loved her.
How much love I still carry for her. I never wanted any of this to happen.
And it's why I’ve worked so hard at creating a safe haven for the Kres-born and those with mixed blood like yours. It's what she would have done.”
“My mother—she was Senka-born—in the memory, I saw her shadows. They were so similar to Kyros and Mavros. Does that mean my father was Kres-born?” I ask, and Shayd looks away, swallowing hard and his lips pressing into a firm line.
“You know that’s where the slur, Kru, came from?
Not the Krusaders; we came after—Krusaders is what we started calling ourselves when the whispers of the people changed Kres—to Krus.
The Neer fought to protect all people, but those who were blessed with magick were held with a higher regard.
Those without magick or some of those with less potent magick, like Phaedra, became jealous.
Kres-born have a magick that is most closely linked to the God, Evara.
The God who cursed the land and dried the sea with his divine-fire.
It was the Neer, like Phaedra, who created the slur against them for their tie to the god that cursed us. ”
Phaedra was Neer?
It makes more sense, now, why Connard wanted no magick in the kingdom. He had none and was terrified of the Neer people and their magick.
“Your father is Kres-born, though, yes.” Shayd confirms. Something we have yet to talk about.
Something I have not looked too closely at.
My father is Kres-born, meaning—my father is alive.
” I know the answer; I saw it clear enough in the memory that flashed back to me.
The nightmare creature that haunted my sleep was actually my actual father all along.
He’s been just out of reach ever since that night.
It hurts to think about the fact that I’ve felt more fear from both men who were supposed to care the most about me.
A father is supposed to be the one who would protect you at all costs, and yet, they have been the ones who have created the most damage.
Granted, one was using me for his benefit, and the other was lost to his sacrifice. It hurts nonetheless.
“My father—he’s the creature that haunted my nightmares. He tried to kill Kyros.” I say, more so thinking out loud, but Shayd shakes his head.
“It’s complicated, Astraea. Your father is locked in a sort of prison.
I've tried researching it, but there really is nothing that I can find about a key that unlocks the kind of prison he's trapped in.” He shakes his head again, biting pain entering his downturned eyes.
“I did this to him.” A twig snaps from the jagged edge of The Pit, and my eyes jump to the noise.
Shayd remains too far into his own head to notice, his gaze is fixed to the ground below him.
“How could I do something like this to my own brother?” The sound above is forgotten by the rush of blood in my ears.
“Brother?” The word comes out as a whispered question.
His eyes lift to meet mine full of unsaid regrets, but the moment is forced to a stop when a rattling, clicking growl from above disrupts our pocket of silence.
The others jolt awake upon hearing it too.
Mavros is on his feet within seconds, his dual curved blades wielded in his grip.
“Astraea, wake Cole up.” He growls, eyes dancing along the edges above us.
“It's time to get moving. That sounds like a hell of a lot of Cerkins, and we are literal fish in a fucking bucket right now.” I don't get the chance, though, as the screaming growl of the first one drops into The Pit.
Its bones snap with the hard impact, but it still attempts to attack us.
The crash startles Cole awake, and she too is on her feet in the next breath, grabbing for her bow and quiver.
This is it. We don't get to finish the conversation.
We don't get a soft ‘see you on the other side.’ No, this life prefers that we are thrust into fight or flight.
And today, we have no other choice but to run.
I cast out my magick, rendering a portal somewhere that will hopefully be less likely to garner attention from those inside the palace walls but also big enough that we can all step through.
Before we are able to though, another cry pulls my attention.
This one is unlike anything I expected. The sharp grating sound that bursts through the portal the moment I have it open causes me to stumble backward as a huge black bird swoops down over my head.
“Drabek!” Mavros calls out just as shocked as I am.
He lifts his arm out, and the bird banks down abruptly.
His giant wings tilt and cut through the morning sun rays like a Tsalarian steel blade through flesh.
He lands hard, gripping onto Mavros’ arm with his huge clawed feet, shadows spilling from his feathers like smoke.
Mavros’ wide eyes meet mine. The portal is still whirling in the center of The Pit and kicking up dirt and debris.
I don't like the way Mavros is looking at me. Fear in the eyes of a man like him is never good. Rowan looks just as worried as he comes running to a stop at Mavros’ side, chest heaving from killing the Cerkin that had fallen in.
I know the shadows that dance along Drabek’s feathers are a message from Kyros.
Cole reaches for me and links her fingers in mine.
“Phaedra’s planning something. She has a way to control the Umbra Vitae. Kyros sent Drabek to warn us to stay away from Eathian.” Mavros says, grinding the words between his teeth as though the very thought angers him as much as it does me.
“And what? We just let him deal with whatever it is she’s planning?
” Rowan cuts in with the same question I was thinking.
Drabek’s deep, rasping growl sounds like an argument too, if I’ve ever heard one.
I stare at the bird, determination building.
If Kyros was able to send Drabek with a message, perhaps not all is lost.
“I have to get to Kyros. I can’t let history repeat itself.
” I say firmly and lift my gaze from the Creshian raven to the others.
To my surprise they all nod in unison—all but one.
Shayd stands sentient, staring at Drabek with his concentration building between his brows, but I can't decipher that right now.
Instead, I lock my gaze with Mavros. “Can Drabek carry a message to Ruaan?” I ask, and Mavros smiles wickedly.
“What do you want the message to say?”
“Tell him to meet us in Eathian. We’re going to save the king.”